Dreamers Often Lie
by boldlikeblack
Summary: Arthur still dreams.  Post-Movie.  A/E and A/A.
1. I dream'd a dream tonight

**Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Inception or any of Chris Nolan's characters. I humbly ask that I not get sued for messing around on Chris's playground.**

**A/N: This is my first dip into a new fandom, as well as my first slash. Honestly though, who could resist these two? It's like double the salty goodness for the price of admission (quadruple if you count Leo D. and Cillian Murphy, but hey, who's counting). I also usually write in past tense, so my apologies if this isn't my best work. I hope you enjoy this though and stick around for parts 2-5.**

IIIII

The first time it happens, Arthur is in a hotel.

He sits at the back of the hotel bar at a cozy, out-of-the-way booth with a moderately-priced cigar smoldering in the ashtray by his elbow and a glass of Scotch within reach. He leans back against the dark leather seats and watches the crowd, waiting for the new Extractor to arrive. Saito had assured him that Sayuri is professional, competent and very beautiful, but Arthur is unsure that the others will appreciate replacing Dom so quickly, but there can be no extraction without an Extractor, so he waits.

As Arthur waits, he allows himself the simple pleasure of watching the crowd. A stunning blond walks by his table and for a moment, he thinks she intends to speak him. He smiles tightly at her and she continues on her way without stopping.

Arthur takes a drag of his cigar, tapping the ashes into the ashtray testily. He finds Sayuri's lateness to be in poor taste and wishes there was someone else qualified enough to replace Dom on such short notice. The Scotch is rich and burns as he takes a swallow. Arthur will give Sayuri five minutes more and then he will retire to the room Saito has reserved for him. For a moment, he allows himself the luxury of imagining what it will feel like to sink into the mattress, pull the covers up to his chin and sleep. Perhaps Arthur will even be fortunate enough to dream. It would be nice to have a reprieve from the exhaustion that has sunk deep into the marrow of Arthur's bones after the Inception job.

Sayuri's time limit passes, but Arthur stays to finish his cigar and drink the last of his Scotch. Over the din of the music, Sinatra or Martin maybe, Arthur hears a familiar hearty laugh. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Eames would be the one to ignore Arthur's request that the rest of the team stay behind while he judged the replacement Extractor.

Eames is sitting at the bar, chatting with the blonde from earlier. Eames' camouflage is a steel grey suit that makes it seems like he might have good taste. Arthur watches as the blonde takes a pen from her purse and writes something on a cocktail napkin, offering it to Eames with a flirtatious smile. Eames closes the blonde's hand around the napkin and shakes his head before nodding his head in Arthur's general direction. The blonde elegantly arches a brow and pouts a little as Eames leaves her behind.

Arthur frowns at Eames as the older man lazily makes his way across the bar. Eames takes more time than Arthur would like, draining the martini as he walks. By the time Eames reaches the table, only the olive is left. Eames slides into the booth, smirking in his usual way. "Well, darling, how did it go?" he asks.

Arthur fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and scowls more firmly at Eames. "I asked you to stay at the workshop, Eames," he replies.

"And yet, here I am," Eames says, before he smirks and removes the toothpick from his martini. He wraps his lips around the olive at the end of the toothpick and pulls it into his mouth with an exaggerated smack of his lips. There is something about the action that sets Arthur's nerves on edge.

"Why are you here, Eames?" Arthur asks.

Eames licks his lips and drops the toothpick back in the glass. For a brief moment, the Forger's expression is soft and Arthur thinks he might detect a hint of worry. "You look exhausted, pet," he says.

"Saito booked me a room upstairs," Arthur answers.

The soft expression vanishes Eames smirks deviously. "Is that an invitation?" he drawls.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "You should get back to the workshop, Eames. We have to be up early to regroup and start hunting for another Extractor."

"She didn't even bother to show up?" Eames asks, shaking his head. "That is simply rudeness, darling."

"I'll figure it out," Arthur says with a scowl.

"Well you'll be no good to anyone if you don't get some rest," Eames states. "Shall I walk you up?"

Arthur glares at Eames in response and hides his amusement when the Forger's eyebrows raise a half-inch. If Arthur didn't know him, he'd say Eames was hurt.

"Just to the elevator then? It's on my way," Eames says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stands and smoothes down the front of his suit jacket, waiting for Arthur to join him.

Arthur rolls his eyes again and stands, placing his jacket over his arms. Eames gestures with his hand and Arthur moves toward the exit. They walk to the bank of elevators in silence. When they reach the elevators, Arthur pushes the 'up' button and turns to face Eames. "I meant it when I said early, Eames," he warns.

The Forger's answering smirk is maddening. "I'll be there when you are, pet," he assures.

The elevator chimes and Arthur nods at Eames. "I'll see you in the morning," he says, stepping into the elevator.

At first, Arthur doesn't realize what's happening. One moment he's in the elevator alone and the next, Eames is kissing him ferociously and pushing him against the back wall as the doors slide closed. When Arthur's brain finally catches up with the rest of him, he places both hands on Eames' chest and shoves. Eames stumbles back just in time to take Arthur's right hook across his jaw.

"What the hell are you thinking, Eames?" Arthur demands as the other man wipes a drop of blood from his lower lip.

Eames' grin is predatory as he reaches out and hits the 'stop' button on the elevator panel. "You didn't say no," he says as he steps back into Arthur's personal space.

The look in Eames' eyes makes Arthur lose focus for a moment before he manages a response. "What?" he says.

Eames places a hand on the wall behind Arthur's head, leaning in. "When I asked you if it was an invitation," he clarifies, "you didn't say no."

Arthur knows that he should take the out Eames is offering by not pinning Arthur in with both hands, but he is frozen, still trying to process what Eames is saying. Eames' thumb is rough as it skims over Arthur's cheekbone, but his lips are surprisingly soft when the Forger drops a kiss in its wake.

Eame's tenderness is only momentary. He captures Arthur's lips in a kiss that is all fire and demand. Arthur tastes blood as the other man's tongue parts his lips, but the taste of martini, tobacco and Eames is enough to overpower the metallic tang. Eames' free hand gets tangled in Arthur's hair in a way that feels so good it nearly hurts and Arthur grips Eames' hips in order to pull the other man closer.

Eames blazes a trail down Arthur's neck, kissing and biting, while skillfully disposing of Arthur's tie and habitual vest. Eames' is three buttons into unfastening Arthur's shirt when Arthur's frustration gets the better of him. Arthur pushes Eames hands away and tears his shirt open, sending buttons flying into the corners of the elevator. Eames quickly takes the hint and resumes his former occupation, leaving a vicious love-bite on the left side of Arthur's chest, over his heart.

Arthur knows this shouldn't be happening, but when Eames' hand slides into the front of his trousers, rational thought becomes impossible. The world narrows down to Eames and the wicked things he's doing with his hand in Arthur's pants and his lips around Arthur's earlobe. Arthur wants this to drag on, but Eames is too skilled and it feels too good for Arthur to be able to concentrate on making it last.

As Arthur reaches climax his eyes slam closed. Behind the lids he memorizes Eames' bruised lipped smile and the world goes white.

IIIII

Arthur wakes with a start, sweaty and gasping for air. His boxers cling to him uncomfortably as he swings he feet over the side of the bed, reaching blindly for the loaded die on the nightstand. Arthur squeezes it tightly in his palm, rolling it between his fingers to feel the weight. Grounded, he walks to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Ariadne stirs as Arthur is fumbling in the drawer for a clean pair of underwear. "What is it?" she asks.

Arthur slides back between the sheets, still damp from the shower, before answering. "Just a dream, Ari;" he says, "go back to sleep."

Half-awake, she presses a kiss to his clean hair before settling back into her pillow. Ariadne falls asleep almost instantly and Arthur would be jealous if he had any desire to follow suit.

Instead, he sits awake, watching the red-numbers on the alarm clock change, and waits for morning to come.


	2. And so did I

**Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Inception or any of Chris Nolan's characters. I humbly ask that I not get sued for messing around on Chris's playground.**

**A/N: Here's part two. It's a bit more racy than I usually go for, but I tried my best to keep it tasteful. I hope you enjoy it!**

IIIII

The next time it happens, they are at a black tie affair.

Arthur stands off to one side of the room, politely making conversation with a dark haired woman in a dress that is the same vivid shade of blue as her eyes. He finds her attractive, in an adorable sort of way, with her sixties-style bangs and wide smile, but he probably isn't paying as much attention to her as she would like. He supposes it can't be helped, as he is occupied with searching the crowd for Eames.

He hadn't seen Eames since shortly after they had arrived, greeted by Saito's acquaintance who was hosting the party. Eames had taken two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, handing one to Arthur, before disappearing into the crowd. As his dark haired companion laughs lightly at her own joke, Arthur wonders for the thousandth time why he thought it would be a good idea to partner with Eames instead of Ariadne or Sayuri. When the invitation had come, the answer had seemed obvious. The Mark would remember a woman as intelligent as Ariadne or as beautiful as Sayuri, who far exceeded Saito's modest description, but he would not remember two average men that he only met in passing at a crowded party.

Arthur finds it exceedingly taxing to participate in conversation with the dark haired woman, study the Mark and keep an eye out for Eames. An ache begins behind his eyes and he becomes increasingly frustrated. The woman, whose name he recalls as being something vaguely seasonal, places a hand on his arm and squeezes lightly. "Would you like to get out of here?" she asks flirtatiously.

The Mark has not done anything of note for the past two hours and Arthur is weary of watching him. 'Yes' sits on the tip of his tongue, but something holds him back and instead he finds himself saying "I'm with someone."

The woman nods in understanding and walks away, with the hem of her blue dress flicking out behind her. Arthur stands alone for a time, waiting, and wonders what possessed him to answer that way. He could have said 'I'm sorry, I'm waiting on a friend;' or 'Thank you for the offer, but no;' or even just 'No thank you;' but he chose not to. Arthur's head pounds steadily as time drags on.

He takes a seat at one of the couches along the wall and hands his still full glass of champagne to a waiter. He watches the Mark make rounds of the room, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Eames hovers behind the Mark's left shoulder over by the bar. Their eyes lock for a moment and Eames disappears again.

After a moment, Eames reappears by a table near the couch Arthur has claimed. He smirks at Arthur as he slides onto the couch beside him. "Miss me, darling?" he purrs.

"Like a bad rash," Arthur deadpans, still focused on the Mark.

"Come now, pet, don't be that way," Eames pouts.

Arthur silences Eames with an exasperated look. The blood rushes in his ears and Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. Eames' hand is warm when it comes to rest on the back of his neck. "You're exhausted," he states, sweeping his thumb over Arthur's skin.

"I'm fine," Arthur growls, pinching his nose harder.

"Liar," Eames says, pulling Arthur with him as he rises from the couch. Eames makes excuses with their host as he shuffles Arthur toward the exit, thanking their host for the wonderful evening. Eames' grip is strong and Arthur can't summon the will to protest.

The coat check counter is closed when they reach it, but Eames is not deterred. Arthur watches him pick the lock on the coat room door and follows him inside. Eames closes the door behind so they will not be bothered.

Eames steps in, so close to Arthur that they are chest to chest, and smirks at Arthur as he deftly withdraws the check tag from the Point Man's pocket. Something about their proximity feels familiar and Arthur reaches out for Eames as the Forger steps away. He catches the sleeve of Eames' tux and tugs it sharply, pulling the other man back to him.

"Arthur?" Eames questions with concerned eyes.

Arthur surprises himself by reaching up to trace the other man's lower lip with his thumb. Eames eyes close for a moment before stepping away. "Let's get you home," he says finally, leaving Arthur standing alone by the heavy shutter of the coat check window.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, mussing the carefully slicked back style. A strand falls across one eye as he crosses to Eames and places his hands on the other man's shoulders. Possessed by something he's not sure he wants to understand, Arthur turns Eames to face him and presses the Forger back into the wall of coats. Meeting Eames' unreadable gaze, Arthur hesitates for a moment before leaning in and kissing Eames deeply.

Eames freezes for a moment before he moans and slips his hands under Arthur's tuxedo jacket. The sound electrifies Arthur and he kisses Eames harder to see if he will make the noise again. Eames does not disappoint.

Arthur breaks the kiss, gasping for breath. He smiles, truly and honestly, as Eames looks at him through half lidded eyes. Eames brushes the errant lock of hair away from Arthur's face and kisses the Point Man softly. "What's gotten into you, pet?" he asks gently.

Arthur smiles again and traces his thumb across Eames lower lip once more. He peppers kisses along the Forger's jaw, following its path up to his ear. Eames' hips buck as Arthur drags his lips over Eames' earlobe and drops a kiss behind the man's ear. Eames moans again as Arthur kisses down the line of his neck, stopping at the line of his collar. Arthur undoes Eames' bowtie, kissing just above the edge of his collar, and unfastens the top few buttons of Eames' shirt.

Arthur inhales the smell of tobacco and soap on Eames' skin and darts his tongue out to taste the hollow of Eames' throat. Eames moans again and Arthur drags his teeth over the Forger's skin. When Arthur reaches the juncture of Eames' neck and shoulder, he bites down hard. Eames thrashes against Arthur as the Point Man leaves his mark.

Arthur unfastens the rest of Eames' shirt buttons and pushes the two halves aside before lavishing wet open-mouthed kisses on Eames' chest. Arthur spends an obscene amount of time tracing the script of Eames' tattoos and then drops to his knees to circle Eames' navel with his tongue, smiling into Eames stomach as the other man utters a sound that is a moan and a laugh combined. Eames moans outright when Arthur bites the crest of his hip.

Kissing and biting along the lines of Eames' torso, Arthur makes short work of Eames' belt and tuxedo pants, allowing the black fabric to pool around Eames' ankles. He kisses Eames' thighs as he peels away the Forger's black boxer-briefs. Smiling up at Eames wickedly, Arthur winks and takes the man into his mouth. Eames reactions let Arthur know when to speed up or slow down and he knows he's found the right rhythm when Eames' hands knot in his hair and he starts to move with Arthur.

Eames' begins to thrust faster and Arthur looks up at him, adoring the way Eames bites his lip. "Arthur, love," Eames rasps, "you've got to move."

Arthur digs his fingers into Eames hips and takes the man deeper, humming in the back of his throat. Eames bucks hard and calls Arthur's name before Arthur's mouth is filled with the product of his ministrations.

Eames mumbles Arthur's name over and over, caressing it sinfully. This, Arthur thinks, is bliss.

IIIII

Arthur wakes as his desk chair collides with the floor. Groaning, he stares up at Eames who grins like a fool.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, darling," Eames purrs, offering Arthur a hand up.

Arthur slaps it away, scowling at Eames for his trouble, and extracts himself from the overturned chair. He sets the chair to rights and sits back down, intending to study the materials for the job.

"Never thought I'd see the day where you fell asleep on the job by accident, pet," Eames states, resting his elbows on Arthur's desk.

Arthurs ignores him and studies the open file in front of him. Eames doesn't move, though Arthur wishes he would.

"Does Ariadne know you drool when you sleep?" Eames asks.

There is something hard in Eames' tone that gives Arthur pause, but the Point Man shrugs and continues to ignore him.

The door creaks open and Eames stands swiftly. He squeezes Arthur's shoulder forcefully and Arthur looks up at him sharply. Eames face is serious as he squeezes Arthur's shoulder again, more gently this time. "Get some rest, Arthur," he murmurs before walking away.

"What was that about?" Ariadne questions as she sets a sandwich and a bottle of juice down on Arthur's workstation.

Arthur shrugs and shakes his head. "Eames," he responds.

Ariadne seems to understand.


End file.
